


Say No

by Sinisterf



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-23
Updated: 2011-05-23
Packaged: 2017-10-19 17:46:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/203509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinisterf/pseuds/Sinisterf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce really should say no, but he just can't bring himself to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say No

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written as a fill for the following Young Justice Kink Meme prompt:
> 
> " _Batman/Robin,_
> 
>  _Dick surprises Bruce by coming on to him. Very blatantly. I'm not talking giving him a look, I mean he puts his hands on him, fondles him, and so on._
> 
>  _Bruce thinks the kid's gone crazy. Dick's just decided he's had enough of waiting around._
> 
>  _ ~~Please don't let Bruce stop him. I don't mind him feeling guilty, but I want him to give in.~~_ "
> 
> For my sanity lets pretend Dick is at least 16 here.

It’s wrong.

Very wrong.

So Wrong.

Maybe if he keeps up the mantra he can stop it.

Or more aptly put, he can stop himself.

“Dick,” he tries, his hands moving to slender shoulders, grasping. He wants to apply pressure, but instead his palms open, hands caressing, sliding against the warm flesh under them.

Betrayers.

Dick isn’t wearing a shirt. He’s still damp from the quick shower he took only minutes before. His skin is hot from a combination of steam and the workout he just finished.

And maybe something more.

The cave is silent, except for a handful of sounds. The trickling sound of water and the creak of settling workout equipment echo in the darkness. He tries to focus on these common sounds. Tries to ground himself in their predictability. He knows what they mean and when they will happen.

Tries to ignore the other, less expected sounds. The soft breath panting in his ear. Moist against his neck as Dick whimpers.

But he’s distracted.

Dick is on his lap. And he’s not sure how the kid got there. Small body exuberantly wiggling and rubbing, knees settling on the outside of his thighs. Their bodies are squeezed together in a way Bruce is trying to convince himself is wrong.

He hadn’t planned for this at all.

The ergonomic chair squeaks a protest under the strain from the added weight of an extra body. The arm rests indent the hard flesh of Dick’s thighs. Sandwiched between Bruce’s body and the computer station, Dick bumps into the computer console every time they move, leaving a series of vivid red lines along the pale skin of his lower back.

Bruce wants to touch them. Soothe them. Lick them.

And was Bruce working only a....was it only a few minutes before?

He’s losing time.

This is bad.

And now the dark head nestles into his shoulder, ignoring his mumbled and half-hearted protests. Dick pushes his face forward, licking Bruce’s neck, while he arches his back into the caress of Bruce’s hands. He's so agile. Hot tongue working towards the hollow of Bruce’s collar bone.  


Focus. He’s the adult here. This should be a sobering thought.

It’s not.

His second plea is barely more than a strained gasp. A puff of surprised air escaping from his pursed mouth. His breathe tousles Dick’s shiny dark hair, but nothing stops. It keeps going. For once, too fast for him to keep up. He’s not at his best right now, in more ways than one. The master of self-control brought low by small but strong hands and a soft mouth. Lithe body, all firm long lines of muscle and soft skin.  


So much skin.

“Come on, Bruce, come on, fuck yeah...” Dick breathes into his neck. Drying the slick skin he had just been mouthing. His voice is rough. Bruce has only ever heard it this way after a hard work out.

Dick’s hands are rubbing, insistent, young, inexperienced but so very enthusiastic. Right there. Bruce is achingly hard, though he doesn’t want to be. And both of the small hands are on him, curving around the growing bulge of hard flesh straining under his worn sweats.

Bruce is used feeling that his body is too weak. It's never enough, for the mission. For the use he attempts to put it to. He knows he is tough on himself. It’s what has to be done. He makes the sacrifice and works through it. He overcomes. It’s what he does.

But this is more than that. He can’t work through this. He’s too weak.

He’s a horrible person.

His hips move, almost of their own volition, seeking firmer contact. It's the ultimate betrayal. Responding to Dick, this way. Dick who needs him to be a mentor. Who needs him to say no.

But, he’s never going to be able to stop.

And right now? He doesn’t care.

And he hates himself for it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to ciaan and xandyrd for their assistance in proof reading this work. Any left over mistakes are solely mine.


End file.
